


Who cares what picture you see?

by WastingYourGum



Series: October 2018 Mystrade Prompt Challenge [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 02:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16188035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: Saturday night - and Greg'snotat the movies.But there may be a plot twist coming...





	Who cares what picture you see?

I should be at home with my feet up watching the footy highlights, thought Greg. That's what real people get to do on a Saturday night.

Real people who don't have Sherlock Holmes in their life, that is.

Instead he was watching the members of an Albanian drug-smuggling operation being taken into custody and one lanky git of a consulting detective being taken into an ambulance, loudly protesting that he'd been unconscious for less than a minute and having him admitted to hospital was sheer pettiness on Lestrade's part.

At least if he left now he might actually get to bed while it was still Saturday. Though the expectant look on the face of the young uniformed constable approaching him might put the kibosh on even that.

"Gentleman asking for you, sir."

Greg turned to look where the constable was pointing, though he already had his suspicions. Sherlock dashing off and risking his neck leaving Greg and his team playing catch-up usually meant only one thing.

Big brother would be along shortly after, convincing absolutely nobody that he didn't really care and just happened to be in the area.

Sure enough a sleek black car sat idling at the corner of the road and standing next to it an equally smooth suited figure and the unmistakable shapely silhouette of his assistant.

"Close your mouth, son. She's way above your pay grade," he muttered to the PC who was openly gawking at Anthea's outline.

"Sorry, sir."

Greg smiled as he strolled over. It wasn't raining but a fine mist hung in the air, diffusing the streetlights and deepening the shadows. Added to the abandoned industrial surroundings it created quite an atmospehere.

"Evening, Mr Holmes, Anthea. You two look like something out of a forties detective film," he commented once he was within earshot.

"With you as Philip Marlowe, Inspector?" Mycroft asked. He gestured at Greg's trench coat. "Your attire is certainly fitting. All that's missing is a cigarette to complete the picture but since I believe you've managed almost four months without them on this occasion, I'll refrain from offering you one."

"Cheers for that. Sherlock's fine but he did get a bump on the head so the paramedics want to keep an eye on him."

"Thank you. Anthea, could you make the usual arrangements? And that will be all for this evening."

"Are you certain, sir?

"Yes. I know what I'm doing."

She nodded and got back into the car.

Which then drove off.

Greg looked expectantly at Mycroft. This was a change to how things normally went. And Anthea double-checking? That was new.

"Are you a fan of film noir, Inspector?" Mycroft's casual question wrong-footed him.

"Uhh, yeah, I suppose so. I like old films in general."

Small talk? Where the hell was this going?

"As do I. I frequently watch a few on a Saturday night as a means of relaxation. I'd only just started one when your message arrived."

"Sorry about that. I thought you'd want to know what with Sherlock--"

"No, no, that's fine. I--" Mycroft hesitated.

Mycroft _never_ hesitated. Not only that but he was fiddling with his cufflinks.

Christ. Greg almost held his breath. Whatever was coming next must be a _bombshell_.

"I wondered if you may wish to accompany me to view the rest of the film?" Mycroft finally blurted out in a distinctly rushed and non-Mycroftian way.

It took Greg a second to recognise that the expected explosion hadn't happened. And then another second to realise that actually, it had.

"At your place?"

"Yes. I appreciate the hour is already late though so if you'd rather not I--"

"I'd love to."

And just like that, the slightly nervous and vulnerable person in front of him vanished and Mycroft Holmes was there again.

"Thank you, Inspector. If you show me to your car, I'll direct you to my home."

"Sure - and it's Greg. I only share popcorn with people I'm on first name terms with."

"Greg," Mycroft acknowledged. "Shall we?"

"You do have popcorn, don't you?" Greg checked.

"Salted, sweet and caramel," Mycroft admitted.

Greg smiled and fell into step beside him as they walked through the mist towards his car.

"Mycroft, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship…"

**Author's Note:**

> October Mystrade Promp Challenge: Prompt for October 4th:
> 
> Your dialogue: "I know what I'm doing."  
> The circumstances... on a Saturday night  
> And you must mention... Cufflinks
> 
> Greg's last line is, of course, the last line of "Casablanca"...


End file.
